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第40章

Joseph shook his head to express how absolute was the fact that he couldn't.

`And so you used to do 'em the wrong way, like this, didn't ye, Joseph?'

Matthew marked on the dusty floor with his whip-handle JAMES `And how Farmer James would cuss, and call thee a fool, wouldn't he, Joseph, when 'a seed his name looking so inside-out-like?' continued Matthew Moon, with feeling.

`Ay--'a would,' said Joseph meekly. `But, you see, I wasn't so much to blue, for them J's and E's be such trying sons o' witches for the memory to mind whether they face backward or forward; and I always had such a forgetful memory, too.'

`'Tis a bad affliction for ye, being such a man of calamities in other ways.'

`Well, 'tis; but a happy Providence ordered that it should be no worse, and I feel my thanks. As to shepherd, there, I'm sure mis'ess ought to have made ye her baily - such a fitting man for't as you be.'

`I don't mind owning that I expected it,' said Oak frankly. `Indeed, I hoped for the place. At the same time, Miss Everdene has a right to be her own baily if she choose - and to keep me down to be a common shepherd only.' Oak drew a slow breath, looked sadly into the bright ashpit, and seemed lost in thoughts not of the most hopeful hue.

The genial warmth of the fire now began to stimulate the nearly lifeless lambs to bleat and move their limbs briskly upon the hay, and to recognize for the first time the fact that they were born. Their noise increased to a chorus of baas, upon which Oak pulled the milk-can from before the fire, and taking a small tea-pot from the pocket of his smock-frock, filled it with milk, and taught those of the helpless creatures which were not to be restored to their dams how to drink from the spout - a trick they acquired with astonishing aptitude.

`And she don't even let ye have the skins of the dead lambs, I hear?' resumed Joseph Poorgrass, his eyes lingering on the operations of Oak with the necessary melancholy.

`I don't have them,' said Gabriel.

`Ye be very badly used, shepherd,' hazarded Joseph again, in the hope of getting Oak as an ally in lamentation after all. `I think she's took against ye - that I do.'

`O no - not at all,' replied Gabriel hastily, and a sigh escaped him, which the deprivation of lamb skins could hardly have caused.

Before any further remark had been added a shade darkened the door, and Boldwood entered the malthouse, bestowing upon each a nod of a quality between friendliness and condescension.

`Ah! Oak, I thought you were here,' he said. `I met the mail-cart ten minutes ago, and a letter was put into my hand, which I opened without reading the address. I believe it is yours. You must excuse the accident, please.'

`O yes - not a bit of difference, Mr Boldwood - not a bit,' said Gabriel readily. He had not a correspondent on earth, nor was there a possible letter coming to him whose contents the whole parish would not have been welcome to peruse.

Oak stepped aside, and read the following in an unknown hand:-- `Dear Friend--I do not know your name, but I think these few lines will reach you, which I write to thank you for your kindness to me the night I left Weatherbury in a reckless way. I also return the money I owe you, which you will excuse my not keeping as a gift. All has ended well, and I am happy to say I am going to be married to the young man who has courted me for some time -Sergeant Troy, of the 11th Dragoon Guards, now quartered in this town.

He would, I know, object to my having received anything except as a loan, being a man of great respectability and high honour - indeed, a nobleman by blood.

`I should be much obliged to you if you would keep the contents of this letter a secret for the present, dear friend. We mean to surprise Weatherbury by coming there soon as husband and wife, though I blush to state it to one nearly a stranger. The sergeant grew up in Weatherbury. Thanking you again for your kindness, I am, your sincere well-wisher, FANNY ROBIN' `Have you read it, Mr Boldwood?' said Gabriel; `if not, you had better do so. I know you are interested in Fanny Robin.'

Boldwood read the letter and looked grieved.

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